


There Is Only

by RogueBelle



Series: Betrothal Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:36:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betrothal Series #2: Rodolphus and Bellatrix get caught in a thunderstorm at a Midsummer garden party. A challenge leads to a proposal which leads to a fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is Only

**Author's Note:**

> cf: My reasoning on [the Black family tree & timeline](http://alyxbradford.livejournal.com/42255.html).

The skies opened while Rodolphus and Bellatrix were walking in the gardens behind Areles Hall. Only a single rumble of thunder served as the storm's herald before the rain started pouring from the sky. From various pathways and courtyards of the gardens, Bellatrix could hear the shrill shrieks of other girls, all of whom were no doubt racing back to shelter as fast as their skinny little legs would carry them. She turned her face to the rapidly darkening sky, letting the inaugural raindrops trace paths over her cheeks.

Rodolphus, somewhat distractedly, offered her his arm. "Come on, let's get you back to the house."

"Do you think I'm likely to melt?" Bellatrix retorted, setting her hands firmly on her hips and arching an eyebrow teasingly. "I'm not made of sugar, Lestrange."

An amused grin played at his lips. "No one could ever make the mistake of assuming that, Miss Black."

He was expecting some sharp reply, but instead, Bellatrix looked at him with a slight frown creasing her features. "Why did you call me that?"

"What?"

"'Miss Black.' You never call me that." Something shrewd had entered her eyes, and Rodolphus had the uneasy feeling she was attempting to pry into his mind. She'd been getting better at the discipline lately, through much practise, and he hadn't been keeping up as well in his efforts to deflect her. "It's always Bellatrix, or just Black when you're being difficult, or Bella when you're feeling civil. But you never call me 'Miss Black' like you ought to. You haven't shown me that respect since you were about seven."

Bellatrix _wasn’t_ prising into his brain, not at that moment, anyway, but she was taking in every minute shift in his demeanour. There was more, she knew, to discerning truth than the rather difficult invasion of the mind, and she had been studying the tell-tales. His shoulders drew together slightly, and there was the mildest look of discomfort on his face for a moment, before he replaced it with his usual self-assured grin, offering the explanation, "You've almost been acting like a proper lady today. It's fooled me into honourifics."

There was something more than that; Bellatrix could see it. Something was making him nervous, and she was determined to know what. Before she could ask, though, the sky gave another loud crackle, and she cast her eyes up at the charcoal clouds that had gathered overhead. She felt her heartbeat quicken, felt a tightening in her stomach, a thrill that urged motion.

"Not back to the house," she said. "Out, farther." Rodolphus saw in her face something like the wicked inclinations that so often led her to do reckless and impetuous things during their midnight excursions, but this was somehow softer, lacking the sharp edge of bloodlust. Perhaps it was only daylight that made it seem so. There was a strange innocence on her face, a childish joy in the elements written on her features -- and then, the teasing spark in her eyes, that same hint of a challenge that always invigorated him. "You're not afraid, are you?"

"You're not actually _daring_ me, are you?" he asked, arching an eyebrow -- though, really, it didn't surprise him in the least. "Bellatrix, don't you think we’re a bit beyond that by now?"

Her only response was to grin broadly, then turn and dash off, with thunder at her heels. Sighing in mock-aggravation, Rodolphus slipped his wand into his trouser pocket, shrugged off his dress robes, heavy already and made more cumbersome for the weight of water, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and took off after her.

Bellatrix was surprisingly fast, even when hindered by long skirts, but she had them fisted up and out of her way, and she was tearing through the gardens, letting branches snatch at her hair and garments. Rodolphus only caught up to her after she paused at the outer limit of the hedge garden, looking out at the vast field in front of them. She was smiling, breathing deeply, and flung damp curls from her face as she turned to him. "You see?" she asked. "It feels wonderful, doesn't it? Don't you feel alive?" Bellatrix wanted to stretch her arms to the heavens and spin around in circles, as she had done as a girl, feeling for once so free of all her trappings.

Rodolphus hardly knew what to say. _'So this is what she looks like without... without that bitterness. Without the caustic edge.'_ It had so defined her for as long as he'd known her; even when she was happy, even when celebrating, she had never been precisely light-hearted. Something of the pitch of her eyes always crept down into her demeanour, weighing down her spirits, attaching that permanent shade, the tinge of shadow that warned a sunny day could turn fierce at any moment. But now that harbinger was lacking: her cheeks were flushed and bright, and her eyes smiled, crinkling at the corners. It was as though the rain streaking her face had washed aside the malice.

Rodolphus knew what it was that always made her so hostile, that had given her character a constant vitriol. She had never confided the particulars to him, but all their society had been shaken by the event, the schism in the House of Black. She had been only ten years old, and though she had never confessed so much to him, Rodolphus assumed the memory of her older sister’s betrayal was what had so coloured her disposition and her perceptions of life. Bellatrix had become, so early in life, a very hard woman.

_'Is this, then, what she was like before that? Is this what she might have grown to be, if Andromeda Black had never turned traitor?'_

Impulsively, Rodolphus cupped her chin in his hand and kissed those smiling lips. He knew well this mood would not last, and might never come upon her again, and he wanted to own a part of it, to be able to keep it when the tempests returned. It didn't make her kiss taste sweeter, nor did it make her more innocent. Bellatrix's inherent sensuality still came through full-force, the bold temptation Rodolphus so appreciated, the heated responsiveness. Her body molded to his, her hands gripping possessively at his shoulders, and Rodolphus held her as tightly in return, fingers grasping, encircling her narrow waist.

She drew back slowly, murmuring endearments in Italian, before her eyes opened wide in display of mischief and she said, "Race you."

Rodolphus blinked. "Race me?"

Bellatrix nodded. "To that copse of trees." She pointed across the field, The sky above was alive, sparking with energy, grumbling its grievances to the earth below. Though the blanket of clouds remained as dark as ever, pouring forth sheets of rain, it was split frequently by blasts of light, ripping through the heavens and casting an eerie, half-defining luminescence on the grass of the meadow.

Rodolphus stared out at the expanse for a moment. They would certainly be the tallest things in that field if they chanced it. "Everyone says you're mad, Bellatrix," he said, raking a hand through his wet hair, "and I think this proves it."

She grinned, making him think she was about to mock him further for cowardice, but instead her tone came out rather placid. "You can't be afraid of it," she said. "It will know if you are, and that's what will strike you down." Her hands went first to her belt, slipping that off but keeping hold of it, and then to the fastenings of her gown; she began freeing the onyx buttons from their loops, peeling the sodden sapphire fabric from her frame. "If you don’t fear it," she went on, stripping off the dress and hanging it over the nearest hedge, leaving her clad in chemise and corset, "it won’t be able to hurt you." Her voice was laced with truthful fervor, the same strangely sure quality it took on when she recited the maxims of their Lord, and her face shone with the confidence of it. She truly believed she could defy the heavens, if she had strength enough to try. "Unlace me." Rodolphus blinked again. "I'd rather run without it."

"What," Rodolphus said, turning her about and pulling at the laces of her corset, "couldn't you beat me with it on?"

Bellatrix scowled at his teasing. "Of course I could. I'd just _prefer_ to run without it."

"I shouldn't be giving you such an advantage." His fingers pulled expertly at the white cords that held the edges of the boned corset together; he was no stranger to liberating women from such restricting garments. Soon it fell away, and Rodolphus placed it on the hedge with her gown. 

Bellatrix gave a feline stretch, reaccustoming herself to freedom of form. Rodolphus’ hands stole about her from behind; his blood was heating to the sight of her, so primal, so free. He stroked her thighs, running his hands up to feel her hipbones through the damp ivory cotton of her chemise. Bellatrix arched against him, wakening his body further, and she spun to give him another hot kiss, even as she was refastening her belt about her hips, before pulling away and whispering, "Mark. Set. Go!"

She bolted off across the field, ignoring the wet tendrils of raven hair that flopped in her face, attempting to obscure her vision. Her bare feet thudded against the soft ground, slipping through the rain-slicked grass. She ran hard, feeling the burn in her legs, the welcome ache in her chest, the rain pelting her skin in a thousand needle-pricks. Rodolphus was only a few steps behind her, and she could feel the energy washing off of him: urgency, desire, the thrill of the hunt, the vehemence of the wolf's jaws as they snapped at the hare's tail. It spurred her onward, made her race for glory. A flash of lightning cut the sky, as bright as though no storm clouds loomed, and a rumble of thunder chased them over the field.

The wind sang symphony in Bellatrix's ears, the electricity of the air channeled in her veins, pushing her spirit out of herself, greater than herself, to touch those white bolts lancing overhead. Laughter burst from her, echoing to the lightning-streaked ceiling, trailing in her wake to reach Rodolphus' half-intrigued, half-disturbed ears. She reveled in the glory of it, in the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of daring the heavens to strike her down, intoxicated by the risk, the danger, the impudence of it.

Bellatrix reached the copse of trees a breath before Rodolphus, and she sank against a tree, still laughing. Rodolphus almost didn't mind losing to her, not when she looked so purely happy. If she had been throwing the usual spite at him, if she had been gloating in that superior way, he might have resented it more.

Coming up from behind her, Rodolphus pulled aside the dripping curtain of limp dark curls and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. He sunk his teeth in lightly, causing her back to arch, accompanied by a low, purring moan. When she turned in his arms, there was yet something different in her eyes: a hunger, a demand, and Rodolphus answered it wordlessly, sinking his fingers into her hair, his thumb resting on her cheek. The sable locks were soaking wet and tangled, but Rodolphus stroked them regardless. He wound the strands at the nape of her neck around his fingers and pulled at them, tilting her head back to bring her lips up for a kiss.

With an almost frantic urgency, Bellatrix began pulling at the fastenings of his shirt, her touch hot against his rain-cooled skin. Danger continued to crackle and roar above them, but to Bellatrix, it only provided a symphony for her inexorable passion, the threat a counterpoint to their defiant living.

With a few skillful moves of Rodolphus's deft fingers, Bellatrix's belt fell to the ground. Her shift was soaked through, clinging to every contour of her body, and Rodolphus rolled his thumb over the fabric delineating her taut nipples before reaching down below her hips, able to bare her to the elements only at the excruciatingly crawling pace the drenched fabric allowed as it peeled away from her skin. As he tossed the garment aside, she shook out her tangled mane, dropping her shoulders and tilting her head back, letting the rain fall in tiny rivers over her neck and chest. Half-maddened with the sight, Rodolphus seized her, one hand gripping at her rear, the other curling around her ribcage, and dipped his head, licking along the path of a stream that ran from the lower curve of her breast to her collarbone. Her fingers delved into his hair, pushing it away from his face, pulling at the scalp when he grazed her throat with his teeth.

Bellatrix's blood thrummed with heat, yearning for more, more heat, more contact, more ardor, and Rodolphus, feeling the rapid pounding surging through her veins, was all too eager to supply. Dragging her to the ground, he shrugged out of his shirt, and she freed him of belt and trousers only so much as necessary to liberate his throbbing member. Growling softly, Rodolphus pushed her roughly onto her back, holding her hips as he drove into her.

The coupling was fierce, as primal and unrestrained as that of the first two who had ever discovered sex, and that it was good. Jealous thunder half-drowned her rapturous cries, his straining grunts, as each sought the peak in each other and in themselves. Neither of them heard her, too lost in sensation to remember her pride, whimpering, "Please, yes," nor did either notice the half-covetous, half-worshipful glaze in his eyes as they raked over her writhing body.

In a lightning flash, Bella reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, her fingernails digging into his spine. She dragged his head down, fastening her mouth to his, and he could taste her hunger, her desperation, even as he felt her clench and shudder around him. In the crash of thunder that followed, Rodolphus' hips bucked hard against hers, and he spilled himself into her as the rumbles echoed across the sky.

After collapsing on top of her for only a moment, Rodolphus rolled off to her side. Bellatrix wished he wouldn't; she had liked feeling the weight of him on her, liked being able to run her fingers over the hard muscles of his back, to breathe in his uniquely masculine scent. But she said nothing, and never would. Instead she stretched, her arms far above her head, letting the rainwater wash over her, running rivulets over her body, mingling with the dots of sweat. _'This,'_ she thought blissfully, _'is what I wanted.'_ She felt delightfully free, open to the sky, her spirit pulled wide to accommodate all the heavens. _'It could only be better if it were night, and the stormclouds parted for stars, not sun…'_

Rodolphus, once his head stopped swimming in ecstasy, gazed at Bellatrix, drinking in the sight of her. Her chest heaved with deep breaths, her eyes closed to keep water from running in them as her face turned to the sky with a rapturous expression. A few spots of mud marred her skin, and there was a long blade of grass adhering to her thigh. Her hair was heavy with water, its ripples lying nearly flat as they waved out on the grass. The hot blood of exertion brightened her cheeks, the force of his kisses had swollen her lips, and bruises in the shapes of his fingers began to shadow on her hips. Rodolphus thought she had scarcely ever looked more beautiful.

"Bellatrix," he said, sitting up, and her eyes drifted open, echoing the darkened skies.

"Yes?" She moved a hand to shield her eyes from the still-drizzling rain, and lifted some of her hair away from her face.

"I want to marry you." He felt after saying it that there ought to have been some preamble, but the words had spilled from him without pause or editing.

Bellatrix stared at him for a long moment, clear shock registering on her face, before she sat up, looking a half-drowned nymph, eyes wide and startled. "Why?" she blurted out, certain there was a more eloquent, more ladylike response, but too twisted in her gut to come up with it. She had rejected proposals before, of course, but generally with greater articulation.

Rodolphus looked taken aback. What sort of response was that, and what sort of answer was she expecting? Every wizard their age wished to marry her; he knew she knew that, as she never wasted an opportunity to flaunt it in front of other girls, nor to remind him of how many other offers she could have. And he knew she knew what her assets were: her body and her dowry not least among them. But now she was looking at him with half-wild eyes, sodden hair straggling over her breasts, as though nothing in the world could have shocked her more. "I--" he began, but was spared a limping attempt at explanation when she raced on.

"Why did you say that?" she demanded, getting to her feet. Rodolphus also stood, not feeling any more confident for being looked down upon. "What--Why would you do that?" The clouds overhead were starting to break apart, the rain to dissipate, but Bellatrix’s tempest was only just beginning; Rodolphus had known the calm would not last. "Why do you have to _spoil_ it?" she yelled, the flush in her cheeks turned hot and angry. From the thrilling openness she had felt only a moment earlier, she suddenly felt constricted, as though her chest had narrowed and was creeping in upon her soul, intent on making her ribs a true cage. It had been lovely, it had been perfect, and he'd had to go and ruin it with this possession. "Why didn’t you just let it be?"

Above his initial bewilderment, Rodolphus' own temper rose in defence to her verbal assault. "You are a piece of work, Bellatrix," he growled, snatching up his shirt and belt. "You can't be a normal female even for a minute, can you? Can't you for once act like a proper woman?"

Bellatrix stiffened entirely. "You _bastard_." Rodolphus had been fastening his belt buckle, and so did not see the slap coming. "You utter _bastard!_ How _dare_ you?"

" _Fuck_!" Rodolphus spat, holding a hand to his jaw, too surprised and angry to remember that he typically did not curse in front of ladies. "Sweet Salazar, Bellatrix, d'you have to split my lip _every_ time we have a fight?"

Wild fury in her eyes, Bellatrix hit him again, a solid punch to his left shoulder, yelling, "I'll split more than that, you say that to me ever again!" Her voice dropped surprisingly, from howling rage to snarling acidity that chilled Rodolphus in his marrow. "Don't you _ever_ tell me to be like one of them, one of those simpering, useless women. I am _ten times_ more than _any_ of them could ever _hope_ to be."

"I know!" Rodolphus yelled, stepping forward and catching her by the shoulders. She struggled, and he grabbed her wrists instead, to keep her from hitting him again. 

Bella erupted into a defensive blaze, tangling words and curses until her corybantic voice became nearly incomprehensible. "You don't, you would say such a thing, you _bastard_!" Hot, irate tears sprung to her eyes, so newly washed with the rain. "You would have me sacrifice -- you would have me _become_ \-- you utter, foolish -- you can't, you don't _appreciate_!" She gave way to a raging scream, thrashing to get free, wanting nothing more than to give Rodolphus the pummeling she believed he so richly deserved.

"Bella!" Rodolphus shouted over her frenzied cry, giving her a good hard shake. "Bella!" His frustration with her flared into a confession he had not intended to give. "Why do you think I want to marry _you_ , Bella?"

There were more words: -- that no other woman would have dared him to a race in a thundershower and then fucked him in the height of the storm; that he'd had plenty of those other woman, but hadn't found a one he hadn't bored of; that despite a lifetime of assuming he would marry some docile and biddable creature, he now couldn't resign himself to that tedium; that if he couldn't be the one to lay claim to her fire and passion, he'd strangle her before he'd let anyone else have what he was denied -- but he couldn’t let the declarations out. Some prideful barrier denied them passage.

Startled quiet, Bellatrix broke from him, fairly flinging herself away to get out of his arms. Her wary eyes scarcely leaving him, she gathered up her chemise and belt, and pulled both on as quickly as she was able. Rodolphus remained as tense as a hunting cat, and no words passed between them, only the sound of his breath, heavy with expectation, and hers, ragged and spent.

Her chin was trembling as she half-raised an accusatory finger towards him. "Don't... don't you..." she said, voice shaking with gravity. She looked on the verge of saying something else, then looked away from him, ordering, "Don't follow me," before she fisted her wet chemise in her hands and sprinted back across the field.

Rodolphus sat down leadenly, with his back collapsing against a tree. No one in the world could be more infuriating, more troublesome, or more inexplicable than Bellatrix Black. He should walk away and consider himself well rid of a lifetime of malcontent.

But the only thought running solidly through his head was that his life would certainly always be interesting.

  
  
_"There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life." – Fredericio Fellini_  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work, please check out [my blog](http://cassmorriswrites.com)! I also write original fiction, and my debut novel will be out January 2018.


End file.
